


The Nine Situations (The Art of War)

by perdiccas



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Barebacking, Clothing Kink, Community: lukexsylar, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Humour, M/M, Porn, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-25
Updated: 2009-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perdiccas/pseuds/perdiccas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Adam and Sylar refuse to let Luke in on their plans for world domination, Luke comes up with a few plans of his own...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nine Situations (The Art of War)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hangthemj for the lukexsylar Xmas in July Fic Exchange 2009. With many, many thanks to my beta, aurilly.

_Sun Tzu said: The art of war recognizes nine varieties of ground:  
(1) Dispersive ground; (2) facile ground; (3) contentious ground; (4) open ground;   
(5) ground of intersecting highways; (6) serious ground; (7) difficult ground;   
(8) hemmed-in ground; (9) desperate ground._

 

+++

_When a chieftain is fighting in his own territory, it is dispersive ground._

**i. Dispersive Ground**

Sylar has this thing about dramatic reveals.

He can't just _tell_ Luke that he's acquired a new power and stolen a vial of that top-secret vaccination that protects against the virus that Sylar's been stressing out about. No, that would be too simple. Instead he lurks in their darkened motel room for god knows how long, leaving Luke wondering for a second, when he comes back from the store, if the power's gone out. When the lights flick back on of their own accord, Luke finds himself pinned to the wall, his body lit up like a circus game, his veins throbbing bright red through his skin, his internal organs a dark shade of purple. And even though it's pretty gross, it's also really, really cool.

Luke's so distracted by this new power, thinking about how awesome it would be to play a real live game of 'Operation' with the next person who tries to stand in their way, that he doesn't notice the syringe that Sylar's wielding until he plunges the needle into the crook of Luke's arm.

"Ow! Holy fuck!" Luke yelps. Sylar's never had the best bedside manner.

Suddenly, Luke's body goes back to normal and he slumps down on the floor, rubbing the bruise that's forming. Sylar's tossing the empty syringe in the trash and grinning the smuggest grin that Luke's ever seen. He hauls Luke up by the collar, kissing him breathless, and though he doesn't come right out and say, "Ta da!" Luke thinks that he really, really wants to.

So, when Sylar grabs him by the scruff of his neck one morning and tosses him in the car, telling him that they're going for a drive, Luke's hardly surprised that the "drive" takes three days, sends them diagonally across the country and through it all Sylar refuses to say where they're going or why. It's mid-morning when they pull up outside a ratty motel somewhere in the heart of Idaho. There's a blond guy loitering on the porch, sipping on a cup of tea with a ridiculous red and gold embroidered bathrobe-smoking jacket-_thing_ cinched around his waist.

When they hop out of the car, he says to Sylar, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

He walks back into the motel, leaving the door to his room wide open for them to follow. Sylar turns to Luke, whipping off his sunglasses and grinning that oh-so-smug grin of his. Under his breath, Luke mutters, "Ta da!"

+++

_When he has penetrated into hostile territory, but to no great distance, it is facile ground._

**ii. Facile Ground**

Apparently Adam shares Sylar's excellent communication skills because no one bothers to tell Luke what's going on. He's barely gotten an introduction before Adam slaps a couple of bucks in his hand and tells him to "be a dear and go get us some lunch."

Over the next few days he picks up snippets here and there, eavesdropping on their conversations while he's supposed to be watching TV. They're plotting something to do with that virus and taking over the world; somehow the fact that Luke hasn't keeled over yet from any side effects of that vaccination is a stumbling block in their plan. Luke sort of resents that Sylar has used him as a guinea pig but he tells himself that if he does suddenly start to breathe fire or grow a second head or something, Sylar would totally cure him with his blood.

Probably.

Most likely.

At any rate, Luke thinks it sucks that he's somehow the lynchpin of this plan but he's not allowed to do anything but fetch coffee and warm up bagels, and sit in the corner being quiet. As if being stuck here in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, Idaho being a bit player in the All Adam, All The Time show is supposed to be fun.

At first Luke thinks Adam is pretty cool. He talks like James Bond and he's been alive so long he's done things that make Chuck Norris seem like a pussy. In the evenings, after the blueprints they scour over all day have been safely packed away and Luke's allowed out of his exile in front of the TV to talk to them, Adam tells these long, sexy stories about sword fighting and pirate ships, and how once he totally banged Marie Antoinette before the French Revolution made that something you didn't want to brag about.

Sitting cross-legged at their feet because there are only two chairs, Luke hangs on Adam's every word. From the look on Sylar's face, Luke thinks he's tentatively impressed, too, which makes Luke think that not only are they good stories, they're probably even true. After the first couple of days, Luke starts to think that Adam might be _almost_ as awesome as Sylar. Sure, Sylar's got more powers and more presence; he's the kind of person that oozes danger, catching everyone's attention the minute he walks into a room. But Adam… Adam acts like he just doesn't _care_ what people think of him and to Luke's surprise, that's really sexy, too.

Luke's determined to weasel his way in on whatever it is they're planning, because anything that has the two coolest dudes Luke's ever met working together has got to be awesome. And sure, it's kind of annoying that even when they're kissing, Luke sometimes feels like Sylar's distracted, his eyes looking past Luke to Adam, watching for a reaction Adam never lets show, but Luke can admit that, these days, he's getting pretty distracted by Adam himself.

Adam doesn't have the same hang-ups about their abilities that Sylar does, so when Luke starts warming his towels and heating the water for his tea with his hands, Adam slings his arm around Luke's shoulders and pats him on the head. It makes Luke's chest feel tight with pride when he calls him a "clever lad" and "a smart little thing."

Luke bounces back and forth between Sylar and Adam, always on the outskirts of their conversations. When he hears them murmuring about a secure facility they need to break into in Lexington, Virginia where they think the virus is being stockpiled, Luke blurts out, "Let me go! I'll, like, melt the walls and stuff."

He holds up his hands and makes a whooshing sound like a building falling down to demonstrate, but Sylar only scowls and Luke remembers too late that he wasn't meant to overhear. Adam smiles faintly and says, "We'll think about it, love."

But Luke knows they won't.

And now, all those nicknames Adam gives him don't seem like compliments anymore. He wants to show them both that he can be more than just an errand boy. But when, after days of practice, Luke lights one of Adam's cigarettes for him just by snapping his fingers, a tiny burst of microwaves igniting the end, instead of being impressed at his control, Adam only ruffles his hair and says, "Well, aren't you precious?"

Things go from bad to worse when Adam lets slip something about some guy named Peter Petrelli and it turns out that Sylar knows and hates him too. Not only are they bonding over their whole stupid world domination thing that they don't think Luke's old enough or smart enough or powerful enough to be a part of, now they're sitting with their heads bowed together bitching about this Petrelli dude which such vehemence that Luke starts to wonder if he's their mutual ex.

When Adam snaps his fingers in Luke's direction, barely looking up, and says "Teatime, my boy," Luke decides he's had enough.

"Here you go, your majesties," he sneers, barging between them and slapping down two deliberately lukewarm cups of tea.

"Luke!" Sylar snaps. "Stop being obnoxious."

And that only pisses Luke off more, because those are _Adam's_ words coming out of _Sylar's_ mouth. He never thought he'd miss the days when Sylar would slam him against a wall and threaten to kill him, but at least Luke knew where he stood then.

Luke whines, "Sylar!" incapable of expressing how freaking unfair the whole situation is.

"Come now, pet," Adam interrupts, voice so smooth that Luke could _almost_ be convinced he cares. "Don't make a fuss. Why don't you do me a favour and warm mine up with that pretty little ability of yours, hm?"

Yeah, Luke can 'warm up' his tea all right. He slaps his hand around Adam's cup, letting out a massive blast of microwaves. The tea boils up all over Adam's lap and in Luke's fist the china shatters. Shards explode out everywhere, mostly stabbing Adam in his chest. Luke's left with a long, ragged cut along his palm and a few slivers of porcelain hit Sylar, too.

That's Luke's first clue that maybe this wasn't such a great idea. But he's still pissed off and Adam's staring at him with this withering expression like it's all Luke's fault, shaking the tea off his hands as his scalded skin heals and pulling at his stupid Armani shirt. It's ugly anyway, Luke thinks. Adam should be thanking him for giving him a reason to throw it away.

"Luke!" Sylar growls, glaring at him.

"He can't talk to me like that!" Luke yells. "I'm not a fucking dog and I'm sick of him calling me 'pet'!"

Luke's swaying where he's standing, a haze of red around him and he thinks he might be spitting as he talks, because Sylar flinches and wipes his cheek when Luke hurls that final 'pet' back at them. And instead of taking Luke's side like he should, Sylar laughs. Then, Adam's laughing, too, and Luke's cheeks are burning red because even if he doesn't know why they're laughing, Luke knows they're laughing at him.

He clenches his fists tight, feeling more microwaves thrumming inside him, _this_ close to spilling out, nuking the whole goddamn motel when Adam says, "It's not an insult, you fool, it's a term of endearment. If I wanted to call you a dog, I'd call you a dog to your face and be done with it."

Luke bites the inside of his cheek and glances at Sylar who nods his head in affirmation.

Fuck.

Now, Luke's pissed off, in trouble and feeling like a stupid idiot. He glares at his feet, flinching when Adam gently cups his jaw.

"Don't pout now, little one," he says. "No harm done and you'll know better next time, won't you, pet?"

"Yes," Luke hisses between gritted teeth.

"There's a good lad. Now clean up this mess."

While Adam goes to change his shirt, Luke makes a sullen, half-hearted attempt to mop up the spilt tea. It's only then that he notices his hand is throbbing. He drops the sodden napkin he's dabbing at the mess and stares at his palm, trying to pick out the tiny slivers of china embedded in the cut. All he does is dislodge the scab; a fresh trickle of blood runs down his wrist.

"Luke." Sylar pats his lap with both hands; Luke trots over obediently and sits on his knees, too tired now to argue. Sylar loops one arm around his middle, pulling Luke back against his chest, and with the other he holds Luke's injured hand open.

"Silly boy," Sylar breathes in his ear. As Luke watches, Sylar holds out his index finger, wavering for a moment as a telekinetic pinprick leaves a drop of blood welling on his skin. He squeezes his finger over Luke's palm until his blood falls into the open wound and Luke's skin starts to knit itself together.

And even though Luke's seen Sylar heal loads of times before, it hasn't prepared him for how freaking weird it feels to be healed himself, but weird in a good way, like he's getting a really great hand massage or something. He watches as the shards are pushed out of his palm and his blood oozes back inside him, and he doesn't know if it's the healing itself or what but he suddenly feels like laughing, a strange sense of contentment settling in his core as Sylar runs the pads of his fingers over Luke's fresh, new skin.

Luke twists a little in his lap, arching his neck back so he can nuzzle into Sylar's shoulder.

"Thanks," he says, trying to kiss Sylar to show his appreciation, but Sylar's fingers curl around his jaw and he presses his thumb to the cleft of Luke's chin, keeping him out of reach.

"Are you going to stop being such a brat now?"

"Uh-huh," Luke hums, squirming a little, trying to close the gap between them.

"Liar," Sylar chuckles, letting Luke dart forward and kissing him possessively. Luke wriggles around until he's straddling Sylar's thighs, both his hands buried deep in Sylar's hair, moaning into Sylar's mouth as Sylar cups his ass through his jeans and roughly kneads his flesh.

They break apart when Adam spits, "Honestly, it's like you two are in heat."

While Luke's trying to decide if the better comeback is "I'll show you heat!" followed by nuking Adam's ass or whining to Sylar that Adam clearly just called them dogs, this time without any Briticisms to hide behind, Sylar simply rolls his eyes and says, "Jealous."

Simple, elegant and totally cutting; Luke barely restrains himself from laughing and maybe adding an "in your face" because Sylar's pissed enough at him already. But instead of slinking off to lick his wounds, Adam only rolls his eyes in return and coolly says, "Sylar, we have many common interests at the moment, but pederasty will never be one of them."

Sylar makes this _feral_ sound in the back of his throat and for a second, Luke thinks for sure that Sylar's gonna slice the top off Adam's head, powers of regeneration or not. But after a tense moment, he only shoves Luke off his lap and grits, "Let's get to work."

Luke decides to cut his losses, palms Sylar's cell phone and huddles in front of the TV, furtively looking up what the hell 'pederasty' means.

+++

_Ground the possession of which imports great advantage to either side, is contentious ground._

**iii. Contentious Ground**

"He's not y'know," Luke says as soon as he hears the shower start behind the closed bathroom door.

Adam pauses with his teacup almost at his lips, eyeing Luke warily as if he might make this one explode, too. Luke takes the chair next to Adam's, twists it around and sits with his chin resting on the back like he's seen Sylar do sometimes when he's doing that creepy-friendly thing that gets under people's skin. He must being doing it wrong though, because Adam barely glances at him before turning back to that stupid French newspaper he insists on buying every morning.

"Who isn't what?"

"Sylar."

"What about him?" Adam leans slightly away as Luke rocks the chair forward on its back feet and nearly topples into him. With an exasperated sigh, he shoves Luke's chair back so that it lands with a slam on all four feet, swaying ominously back and forth as Luke's teeth clatter with the impact.

"Ow," Luke whines as he rubs his jaw, and when Adam still refuses to acknowledge him except for a small amused grunt that Luke kind of resents, he blurts out, "He's not a pede…"

Luke's halfway through the word before he realises that it's one he's never said aloud before. He tries to mimic the way the Adam had said it the day before but the vowels sound all wrong in his accent and he's tripping over the consonants.

"A pederasty…ist," he finishes lamely.

"Pederast," Adam corrects. One day Luke's gonna smack that superior smirk off Adam's face and follow it up with a knife to the back of his head so that he never has to see it again. But for now, he studies the way Adam moves his lips around the word, memorising that snooty expression that makes Luke feel like a piece of shit he's found on the bottom of his shoe. It's a good word, Luke thinks. He can use it on the skeevy guys who try to pick him up in bars, but Sylar's not like them.

"Yeah, that. He's not."

"Isn't he?" Adam counters. "You are, after all, evidence to the contrary."

"I'm not a boy," Luke snaps. "I'll be eighteen in two months."

"Ah well, then. My mistake, hm?" Adam leans into him, studying Luke's face close up with a shark-like grin. "You're all grown up, are you?"

Something about the way he says it sends a thrill running down Luke's spine. He wipes his palms on the tops of the tops of his thighs and swallows dryly, trying to ignore the sudden heat in his belly. "Yeah, I am. And anyway, who cares how old I am? I know what I'm doing."

"Is that so?" Adam takes a long drag of his tea, looking at Luke slyly over the rim of his cup, one challenging eyebrow raised in his direction.

"Yeah! Yeah, it is so. Sylar says I'm the best cocksucker he's ever had."

And, okay, maybe that isn't quite true but Luke thinks it's close enough; Sylar's always telling him how good he looks on his knees and how prettily he sucks. Still, Luke regrets the words as soon as he says them. He flushes a bright, hot red and Adam chokes slightly on his tea, barking coughs between his laughter. Luke can't help glancing desperately at the bathroom door and praying that Sylar doesn't burst through it, demanding to know what all the noise is about.

God, he hopes Adam doesn't tell Sylar what he's said.

When Adam's laughter finally dies down, he curls his finger and beckons Luke close.

"I'll let you in on a secret, pet," he whispers in Luke's ear. "I don't think young 'Gabriel' has much in the way of comparative data."

Adam pinches Luke's cheek; Luke absently slaps his hand away, grunting his aggravation as he tries to puzzle out what the hell Adam is saying. In between all the two-dollar words, Luke sort of thinks he gets it, but he also thinks Adam's talking out of his ass. Sylar's, like, the most fuckable dude Luke's ever seen; he could totally get laid all night, every night if he wanted to.

Still, Luke can't shake the flare of jealousy in his core that maybe Adam knows more about Sylar than Luke does. It was three months before Luke figured out Sylar's name had been Gabriel before and that was only because he went snooping and found his driver's licence. He shakes his head and swipes the back of his hand over his mouth. "Whatever," he grunts.

"'Sides," Luke adds with a pout. "Sylar was right, I've seen you looking."

It's petty and petulant and Luke hasn't, not really; the motel room they share is tiny and sometimes there isn't anywhere else Adam can look. But Luke's been in enough schoolyard fights to know when an insult has hit a sore spot and he's pretty sure Sylar's comment yesterday rattled Adam as much as Adam's retort rattled Sylar. Adam's back goes ramrod straight at the accusation and he rolls the paper he's reading tightly, cuffing Luke on his knee with the end and shooing him away.

Coldly, he says, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

The bathroom door opens in a cloud of steam, Sylar rubbing at his still wet hair with a towel, barefoot and shirtless, jeans clinging low on his narrow hips. Luke's staring, but he doesn't care. He glances at Adam quickly, breath catching in his throat when he sees that Adam's staring at _him_ with the same intensity that he's been staring at Sylar.

"Run along and play now like a good lad," Adam says, practically tipping Luke from his seat. "The adults have work to do."

+++

_Ground on which each side has liberty of movement is open ground._

**iv. Open Ground**

Sylar's not so big on Public Displays of Affection, but ever since Adam called him out on, well, _Luke_, he's been really into Public Displays of Possession.

Sylar will shove Luke against a wall without preamble, body pressed hard to his as Luke's lips grow bruised and swollen from the biting kisses he leaves. And when he pulls away, Luke still reeling, wondering what the hell brought _that_ on, the only common factor ever is that Adam will be near, staring at them with an expression Luke can't quite read. And Luke kind of hopes that this standoff of theirs never gets resolved because he could get used to the way Sylar's mauling him, even if (especially if?) it's to piss Adam off.

They first time they fuck when Adam's in the room, it's pretty uncomfortable. The lights are off but Luke still feels shy and insists on keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around them. Luke figures it was bound to happen eventually, because there're only two beds and three of them, and the nightlife in this part of Idaho is hardly thrilling enough to keep Adam out late.

Luke finds it a little hard to come, knowing that Adam's in the opposite bed, probably rolling his eyes and stuffing his fingers in his ears because Sylar seems to be going out of his way to make Luke make as many embarrassing sounds as possible. Sylar on the other hand is more turned on than Luke's ever seen him; he comes with an enormous bellow. When Luke thinks about it, he guesses that kind of makes sense. Sylar likes nothing better than having an audience, after all.

He wonders if Sylar says "Ta da!" in his head when he's done.

Now, Sylar's lying over Luke and they're making out, lazily grinding against each other through their clothes. They have the room to themselves for a change and, as much as Luke enjoys that their every fuck doubles as a giant 'fuck you' to Adam, he misses when it was just the two of them. Luke wonders if when they wrap up this whole taking over the world deal, they'll split the planet down the middle. Luke thinks he'd be okay with Adam living forever as long he does it on his side of the globe. Hell, right now he'd settle for Adam getting his own motel room. But whatever's in those plans that they still won't show Luke, neither Sylar nor Adam trusts the other enough to remain unsupervised with them for long.

Sylar slides his hand up Luke's shirt, kissing away Luke's giggles as his fingers flit over Luke's ribs making him squirm. Sylar tugs at his nipple and Luke gasps happily, moulding his hands to Sylar's hips and pulling him closer. As his lips and chin start to tingle from the pleasant scratch of Sylar's stubble, Luke can't help but wonder about what Adam had told him. He still thinks Adam's full of shit but he kind of wants to know for sure. So, while Sylar's got his head tilted back and pinned against the pillows, sucking kisses up under his chin, Luke asks in a quavering voice, "Sylar?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me about the first time you fucked?"

Sylar makes this sound that's sort of a laugh and sort of a snort, muffled against Luke's skin, and his head snaps up as he eyes Luke in disbelief. "Why?"

"I dunno," Luke shrugs, propping himself up on his elbows as Sylar draws back. "Thought it would be sexy, talking dirty and all?"

When Sylar doesn't say anything, Luke whines, "C'mon, I'd tell you mine but, uh, you were there."

With a hand to his chest, Sylar presses Luke gently back against the mattress and pins his arms above his head. He settles his mouth at Luke's ear, hot breath curling against his temple and when he licks his lips, Luke can feel the flick of Sylar's tongue on his skin.

"Fuck," Luke gasps. Sylar hasn't said anything yet and already Luke's panting and wriggling beneath him. And when Sylar does start to talk, when he's got Luke so worked up from waiting that he thinks he could come from the thought alone of Sylar talking dirty to him, Sylar's voice is doing that thing where it goes all low and hoarse, rumbling down Luke's spine and up his dick.

"We were in this old abandoned house."

"Yeah?"

"Fucked on the dirty, dusty floor."

"_Yeah_." Luke rolls his hips, presses up against Sylar where Sylar's holding him down, but Sylar squeezes his wrists tighter, pushes his lips closer to Luke's ear.

"Hard and rough," he rasps.

"Oh!" Luke whimpers. There's some part of his brain that makes a note to thank Adam in the morning because this is turning out to be the hottest thing they've ever done. But then, Sylar's suddenly quiet.

"Sylar?" He asks, but Sylar only shakes his head, won't meet Luke's eyes. "Sylar, c'mon, you can't leave me hanging. Then what?"

"Then," Sylar growls, "she betrayed me and I killed her for it."

Before Luke can ask any of the questions that are pushing at his lips, namely: what?, who? and huh? Sylar flips him over and holds him down, one hand firm to the back of his neck as the other yanks down Luke's pants.

"Remember that," he hisses.

Two slick fingers drive hard into Luke's ass, twisting and stretching him roughly in that way that always has Luke scrabbling at the sheets and pushing his ass back for more. He looks over his shoulder to watch as Sylar rolls a condom on. Just as Luke drops his head back to the pillows, biting at them as Sylar rocks into his still-tight body in one long, deep thrust, Luke hears the motel door swing open.

"Christ," Adam mutters wearily. "Fair warning would have been nice. Couldn't you hang a sock on the doorknob?"

Sylar doesn't answer, just grabs Luke's hips hard enough to bruise and pounds into him, his every thrust pushing Luke up the bed until Luke has to brace one hand against the headboard to stop himself from getting hurt. He turns his head to the side, panting in time to the stuttering drag of Sylar's cock over his prostate, and through heavy lidded eyes that he can barely keep open, Luke watches as Adam leans against the closed door and watches them.

Though Adam isn't touching himself, just standing nonchalantly in the doorway, staring, Luke thinks he finally gets why Sylar gets so turned on by being watched. Every twitch of Sylar's hips, every desperate groan of Luke's, is reflected back in Adam, in the way he shivers, licks his lips and sighs. There's something intoxicating about getting someone off from across the room, something fucking powerful that makes Luke think if only he could figure out how, he'd have Adam under his thumb instead of the other way round.

Sylar slams into him hard, his balls slapping against Luke's ass and he comes with a shuddering groan; Adam gives this breathy gasp that has Luke coming, too, with nothing but the sweat-damp sheets touching his cock. Sylar collapses down on him, biting gently at his neck and as his arms wrap protectively around him, Luke watches Adam scurry to the bathroom, one hand conspicuous in the way it darts between his legs, pulling at his fly.

Luke thinks, "Ta da!"

+++

_ Ground which forms the key to three contiguous states, so that he who occupies it first has most of the Empire at his command, is a ground of intersecting highways._

**v. Grounds of Intersecting Highways**

Their shower schedule is always the same: Sylar gets first dibs, then Adam, and finally Luke has to make do with whatever hot water is left. For once, Luke isn't pounding on the bathroom door, bitching at Adam to hurry up.

Today, Luke has a plan of his own.

It's two days to laundry day, and their dirty clothes are piling up. Luke takes his last two clean pairs of boxers and furtively shoves them into the middle of the hamper, waiting at the door to be taken to the laundromat.

Sylar's tying his laces when Luke sidles up to him and whines, "Sylar, I need to borrow some underwear."

Sylar's head snaps up and he scowls. "What?!"

Luke shrugs, looking sheepishly at his feet, thinking hard about the time Sarah Jenkins saw him get a boner in fourth period calculus to make himself blush.

"Sometimes I dream about you…" he mumbles. Luke bites his bottom lip, looks at Sylar slyly from under lowered lashes; it's not a lie, not exactly. Luke dreams about Sylar all the time, creamed himself more than once. He's pretty sure that Sylar's ability only detects dishonesty, not non-sequiturs.

"Oh, for the love of…"

"It's not my fault," Luke whimpers, carefully straddling the line between appealing to the part of Sylar that likes to fix all of Luke's fuck-ups and being so annoying as to piss him off. He sits beside Sylar on the edge of their bed and cuddles up against his side, twisting one hand in the sleeve of his t-shirt and tugging. He tips his chin up and bares his throat, nuzzling into the crook of Sylar's neck.

"Come on," he pleads, dragging one hand up Sylar's inner thigh. "I mean, you're so hot and sexy and right _there_ next to me while I'm sleeping. I can't help it if all I can think about is you kissing me and sucking me…" Luke lowers his voice and rasps, "Holding me down while you fuck me..."

As Luke's hand reaches Sylar's crotch, Sylar catches him by the wrist, twisting his arm just enough make Luke yelp in pain. He shoves Luke away with a gruff, exasperated sigh.

"Fine. Hurry up and grab some before you mess up your pants too. Oh, and Luke?" he adds sweetly as Luke starts to paw through the chest of drawers. "If you don't learn some self-control soon, I'm going to cut your dick off."

"Yes, Sylar," Luke stutters. And as he turns away, Sylar pats him affectionately on the ass. Out of Sylar's sight, Luke grins. Sylar might be a total badass, but Luke _so_ has him wrapped around his little finger.

+++

_ When an army has penetrated into the heart of a hostile country, leaving a number of fortified cities in its rear, it is serious ground. _

**vi. Serious Ground**

Luke's plan isn't quite going to… well, _plan_.

The reason the 'Pet Incident', as he's taken to calling it just between him and himself, failed, he's sure, is because he rushed into it. He doesn't want to make the same mistake twice. But Sylar's always saying that they have to make the most of the opportunities that arise and Luke's not gonna get another opportunity to swipe Sylar's super-tight, super-sexy black briefs. Not if he wants to keep his dick in one piece.

The problem is that as great as this opportunity is, nothing's 'arising.'

Goddamn motherfucking Adam using up all the hot water again; Luke's balls have practically crawled back inside his body in self defence.

He's standing in front of the rust-speckled mirror, shivering because there's only one thin towel left and it's half wet. No matter how much he rubs at his hair, trickles of frigid water keep sliding down his neck. Still, even if his teeth are chattering, at least his nipples are nice and hard. Luke puffs out his chest, arching his back as he plays with his hair. He tries to sweep it up into spikes, but however Luke pushes the hair around on his head, it just kind of falls limply over his eyes.

To his disgust, it's drying fluffy.

Carefully, Luke steps into Sylar's briefs and pulls them up. On Sylar they're obscenely tight, made to be worn under those jeans that look like they've been painted on. And when Sylar peels his pants off after a long day's drive and the black cotton is ever so slightly damp with sweat, the fabric clings to him so snugly between his legs that Luke can practically see the individual outline of his balls.

On Luke, of course, the briefs are kind of baggy. He thinks that if the whole serial killer thing doesn't work out, Sylar could totally make a killing in porn. The size of his junk is _insane_. For a moment Luke considers stuffing, but Sylar won't buy that for a second and that's the kind of thing he'd never let Luke live down. So Luke turns to more traditional methods, blowing on his hands to warm them up (cold fingers will only make a bad situation worse) and tugging at his cock until he's nicely plumped up: not too hard, not too soft, just right.

And, okay, so he still doesn't quite fill out Sylar's underwear, but he figures he's doing better than if he'd tried on Sylar's shoes or shirts. Even if they don't fit right, they're still sexier than anything Luke owns. He pulls at the elastic waistband trying to decide if it looks worse drooping on his hips or digging into the soft swell of his tummy. In the end, he shoves it down low below his belly, so that the light catches on the fine, ginger hair winding up from his groin and when he turns around and looks over his shoulder at his reflection, he can just see the top curve of his ass if he bends.

+++

_ Mountain forests, rugged steeps, marshes and fens--all country that is hard to traverse: this is difficult ground._

**vii. Difficult Ground**

Luke thinks Sylar would be proud. His objectives are clear: ruffle Adam's composure, prove Sylar right. He figures there's no way Adam can go around calling him a little boy, calling Sylar a ped-e-rast and a perv, if Luke can get him as riled up as he was the night before. And once they see he's not just some dumb kid, but a real man who can get under their skin and outsmart them? Then all he has to do is sit back as they beg and plead for him to help them out with their super-secret plans. And, okay, maybe that last one is a long shot but two outta three ain't bad.

He flings open the bathroom door and struts out, swaying his hips just a little like Sylar seems to do unconsciously, trying to copy that side-to-side movement that always draws Luke's gaze to his ass. But maybe it's his height or those ridiculously skinny jeans he wears, but whatever mojo it is that Sylar has, Luke can't get it right; he stumbles a little, tripping over his own feet and instead of the horny, drooling stares he'd hoped for, he sees Sylar shake his head and groan. When he looks at Adam, he's looking steadily back, a slight grin nearly obscured by his teacup but his face is otherwise blank.

Adam's four hundred year head start in perfecting a poker face might be Luke's downfall.

Luke swallows dryly and perseveres. He stretches up high, rocking up on the tips of his toes before pretending to spot something he needs beside the bed. He bends from the waist, wiggling his hips back and forth a little when, looking through his knees, Sylar and Adam have no reaction other than to stare at him with eyebrows raised in unison. And now, Luke's starting to feel kind of like an idiot but decides, what the hell, and goes for the big finish.

He slinks over to the breakfast table, or at least, he tries to slink. The twitching at the side of Sylar's mouth makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he's not being as sexy as he's trying to be. He sidles up close to Adam, leans one hand on the back of his chair and now, Adam's eye level with Luke's stomach, only has to tilt his head down a fraction and Luke's half-hard cock is _there_. Luke closes his eyes and wills Adam to take the bait.

"Yes?" Adam asks, neither looking up nor down, just leaning forward enough for his breath to warm to Luke's skin. And holy fuck, Luke's whole body trembles, sudden heat swirling in his gut and then, _then_ Adam looks up at him with a wide, toothy grin, blue eyes sparkling wickedly like he knows exactly the effect he's having.

Of course, in Sylar's super-sexy, super-skimpy briefs, there's not a lot that needs to be left to the imagination.

Sylar snaps, "Dammit! Luke, put some clothes on!"

He scurries away (dick leading the way), grabbing the first pair of jeans he finds and hauling a t-shirt over his head. Those stupid fucking briefs keep his cock trapped tight, and it's only making Luke that much harder. He looks back at Sylar and Adam, at the way Sylar picks a strawberry off the top of his stack of pancakes, plump lips wrapped around it and at the way Adam's licking maple syrup from his fingers. They look at him, glance at each other and grin knowingly; Luke has to admit he's been outclassed.

He figures that now's as good a time as any to run away.

+++

_ Ground which is reached through narrow gorges, and from which we can only retire by tortuous paths, so that a small number of the enemy would suffice to crush a large body of our men: this is hemmed in ground._

**viii. Hemmed-In Ground**

"Luke!"

Luke freezes in the bathroom doorway. He turns slowly, hands held awkwardly in front of his crotch. Sylar walks towards him with a predatory grin, Adam two steps behind, smirking as he casually shoves his hands inside his pockets. They look Luke up and down, and Luke curses the way that he's flushing. He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Brat," Sylar breathes as he leans down close. He catches one of Luke's wrists between his fingers, and yanks it around, pulling his hand to the small of his back as he steps behind him. As Luke squeals, "Hey!" he grabs Luke's other hand and drags it back as well, so that Sylar's got both his wrists held in one hand and pinned between them.

The tighter Sylar pinches his wrists together, the harder his cock throbs against his fly. Adam's openly leering, his eyes raking over Luke and in his ear, Sylar's breathing hard. Luke struggles weakly; his head spins and his knees buckle. He leans his head back on Sylar's shoulder and Sylar presses an oddly gentle kiss to his temple.

"Is this why you've been acting out, hm?" he purrs, raising his eyebrows in the direction of Luke's erection. "Got an itch that you can't quite scratch?"

Adam chuckles softly, stepping closer until Luke can feel the heat of his body against his front. He squirms a little, rolling his shoulders against Sylar's chest and arching his back, subconsciously trying to close the gap between them, even as he moans, "No, I… ah! Sick of you treating me like a little kid."

"Oh pet," Adam croons, sliding his hand up Luke's inner thigh. "Trust me when I say this isn't how I treat children."

He cups Luke's dick through his jeans, fingers pressing up against his balls, thumb stroking firmly along his length. Luke gives a startled gasp, his hips snapping forward instinctually, and then rocking back to press his ass against Sylar's groin. He can feel that Sylar's hard now, too, and it's getting difficult to think, what with all the remaining blood in his body rushing to his dick when Adam starts biting tenderly up his throat.

But as good as it feels to be sandwiched between them, Luke doesn't want to be distracted, at least not yet. "Then why won't you let me help you?" he whines.

Sylar and Adam's sighs echo around him in surround sound. They share a look over Luke's head and Adam leans against him, his lips resting on Luke's forehead. He squeezes Luke's crotch tighter, tight enough to hurt and Sylar twists his wrists so the skin there burns.

"This again, lad?" Adam says tiredly. "You've a pretty mouth but you're starting to sound like broken record."

"But I can help!" Luke yelps indignantly. "You think I don't know anything but I know you're worried if you release the virus before you destroy the vaccine then the virus won't have any effect. And I know that I'm immune now, so if you'd only let me help I could release the virus while Sylar destroys the vaccine, and then no one would be able to stop us."

Luke's heart is pounding, his chest heaving as he watches Sylar and Adam exchange a glance and he thinks for sure he's shown them. He wants to yell, "Ta-motherfucking-da!" But, Sylar's hand drags up his throat and he presses down, slow but firm until Luke's breath comes in short, ragged pants and he's really struggling now but Sylar's grip is like a vice around his wrists.

"You know all that, do you?" Sylar growls.

"Yeah," Luke pants. "Yeah, I do."

"Well, did you know they have a man who can read your thoughts, who'd have a sniper shooting you in the head before you get inside the building?"

"No," Luke grunts.

"And did you know that they have a man who can stop your powers working, so you can't fight back?"

"No…"

"And did you know, pet," Adam interjects, "that if they capture you they'll keep you in a tiny cell and strap you to a concrete bed, experimenting on you until die?"

"No!" Luke yells. "It doesn't matter. I can do it. I can take it!"

"Can you?" Sylar hisses.

He's hands have moved to Luke's upper arms, wrenching them hard behind his back until Luke whimpers, "You're hurting me."

"I know," he says, voice hard. "And I know they'd hurt you much, much worse."

Sylar keeps the pressure up for a moment longer, until Luke's arms burn with the strain and he has to bite his tongue not to scream for it to stop. Then, he lets Luke go with an angry grunt. Luke shrugs him off and rubs pitifully at his upper arms; he refuses to meet their eyes, glaring instead at the floor.

Adam grabs him by the chin, forces his head up as he runs his thumb roughly over Luke's bottom lip. "Such a bright thing, too. Shame he's so obstinate."

"Am not," Luke whines reflexively.

"No?" Adam presses. "Prove it."

+++

_Ground on which we can only be saved from destruction by fighting without delay, is desperate ground._

**ix. Desperate Ground**

Luke takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders and nods, looking Adam directly in the eye; whatever it is he needs to do to be taken seriously as a man and not a boy, he'll do it.

"Strip," isn't the order Luke's expecting but his cock jumps all the same. He swallows loudly, turns to look back at Sylar but Adam catches his chin again with two gentle fingers and stops him.

"Uh-uh," he tuts.

Luke studies Adam's face, at the cracks showing through his usual cool, calm, collected demeanour: his eyes are blown wide and dark with want and his gaze skitters down Luke's body, raking over him with such intensity that Luke gives a breathy gasp as if he's being touched. And maybe things aren't going exactly as he planned, but Luke's still getting what he wants so he holds Adam's stare and roughly pulls his t-shirt over his head, chalking this one up as a win as he rips open his fly. He shimmies his hips from side to side so that his baggy jeans puddle at his feet.

Sylar's hands at his hips slowly, slowly ease down his borrowed briefs, making both Luke and Adam hiss out in pleasure as the glistening tip of his cock comes into view. Luke's leaning back against him now, feeling Sylar's chest rise and fall against his shoulders as Sylar inches the underwear down Luke's hips; the elastic waistband drags down the length of Luke's swollen shaft, stuttering as it catches on the veins and ridges of his flesh. Lower, lower, and Sylar's crouching down now, sucking open mouthed kisses down the back of Luke's neck and along his spine. Adam reaches out to touch as soon as Luke's balls come into view. Nimble fingers play over his sac, tenderly cupping; Adam brushes an appraising thumb over Luke's delicate skin and makes a sound of approval deep in the back of his throat.

Now Sylar's licking a precise path down the crack of Luke's ass, tongue swirling a teasing circle over the puckered skin of his opening. He holds Luke steady low on his thighs, thumbs tracing maddeningly ticklish patterns on the backs of Luke's knees. He pulls his lips away and Luke shivers at the huff of breath ghosting over his spit-damp skin. Sylar's briefs are around Luke's ankles and it takes all Luke's concentration not to stumble as he kicks them away.

As Sylar stands, blunt fingernails scratch lightly up the length of Luke's body, making him shiver and sway in pleasure.

"He does have a certain… je ne sais quoi," Adam muses, taking half a step back to survey the sight before him.

"I told you so," Sylar says forcefully over Luke's shoulder.

"So you did," Adam murmurs. "So you did."

Luke's mouth goes dry and his heart pounds faster still at the thought that in all that time Adam and Sylar spent not talking to him, they were sometimes talking _about_ him. His cock twitches, drawing everyone's eye.

"I was a fool to doubt you," Adam says, curling his fist around Luke's dick, stroking experimentally.

And if Luke thought being watched was hot, it has nothing on the feel of two pairs of hands running over his body, cupping, caressing, pinching and teasing; two sets of groans loud in the otherwise silent room and knowing that the two coolest dudes he's ever met are panting for him. No abilities, no plans, no world domination: this is the most powerful Luke's ever felt.

So when Sylar pushes lightly at his shoulders, Luke drops eagerly to his knees between them. Mouth open, he looks up at them as they frame him, and waits for the next order to follow.

"Come, pet," Adam says gently, fisting his hand firmly in Luke's hair. "Why don't you demonstrate all those grown up skills you bragged about, hm?"

He walks backwards slowly, tugging at Luke's hair; Luke crawls after him, hands and knees burning as they rub against the carpet, the _swish-swish_ of his movements nearly drowning out the rumble of Sylar's zipper behind him. Adam sits on the edge of the bed, his legs spread as Luke kneels obediently between them. He reaches out for Adam's fly but Adam slaps his hands away. "Naughty, naughty, pet. Not until I say you can."

Adam slides down his zipper, pops the button of his fly, and the charcoal grey suit pants get pushed down his thighs. His boxers are a royal blue, shiny silk that drapes obscenely where his erection's trapped beneath. Luke's finger's twitch; he wants to touch, to stroke, to feel, but he clenches his fists, keeps his hands at his sides, and waits. When Adam draws his cock through his gaping fly, Luke's nostrils flare as he gulps down Adam's rich and musky scent.

Luke licks his lips to stop himself from drooling, his own cock achingly hard and straining up against his belly as he watches, near-hypnotised, while Adam fists himself. Then, Adam's cupping the back of his neck and guiding Luke's face closer. He rubs the tip of his dick in the corner of Luke's lips, painting pre-come over his mouth as Luke tips back his head and moans.

"What do you say now? Don't be shy."

"Please," Luke begs.

"Such pretty manners when you want something…" Adam presses just the crown between Luke's lips, teasing at Luke's tongue, drawing back in a slithering, sloppy mess of spit as Luke tries to lean forward, take more. Adam yanks his head back further, pulls his hair so that it hurts and _fuck_ it's enough to make Luke keen.

"Please," he pants. "Please, I wanna… wanna suck you."

"Well, since you ask so nicely." Adam positions his cock at Luke's lips, and instead of thrusting up, he presses Luke's head down, not fast enough to choke, but firm and steady, unrelenting until the head of his cock bumps the back of Luke's throat. Luke heaves breaths through his nose, swallowing rapidly around him to stop himself from gagging.

"That's good, Luke," Sylar says, rubbing the pads of his fingers against Luke's cheek, feeling out the heft of Adam's cock inside his mouth. Luke looks up; the angle's awkward and it strains his neck (he starts to drool a little but both men seem to like that), but through his lashes he can see Sylar looming over him, can hear the slick slide of skin on skin as Sylar strokes his dick.

Then, Sylar's hands massage his shoulders. Luke dips his head, keeps sucking, keeps swallowing, keeps Adam making those filthy, guttural moans as behind him Sylar takes him by the hips and tugs him up and back. Luke's on all fours now, one hand on the floor for balance and the other clutching tight to Adam's hip. And when Luke hears Sylar spit, feels two damp fingers delve roughly inside him, Luke groans, too. He shifts his stance a little, spreads his legs, and begs wordlessly for more.

Sylar drags the head of his cock down the cleft between Luke's ass cheeks, leaving a warm, sticky trail of pre-come in his wake. He rubs himself teasingly around Luke's asshole, tight, quick circles that make Luke tremble with the effort of not thrusting back against him. Sylar grinds himself there harder, draws back quickly to slick his dick and then eases his way in.

Luke gasps at the feel of Sylar's bare skin on his, used to the slicker, cooler feel of latex. Adam strokes his hair with soothing fingers. "Hush, pet," he whispers. "It's all right."

Behind him, Sylar's groaning, swearing, panting at the difference, too, hands dancing restlessly over Luke's back as he pushes deep enough for Luke to feel his balls resting, hot and heavy, against his ass. Sylar curls down over him, his fingers lacing with Luke's on Adam's hip and he kisses Luke's cheek, mouthing at the outline of Adam's dick and pressing firmly with his tongue against its shape.

"_Sylar_," Adam gasps.

"Oh!" Luke stutters around Adam's cock.

He pulls off. He has to because it's almost too much; he nuzzles his face in the seam of Adam's groin, breathing in his earthy scent. Sylar's nibbling at his skin, sucking kisses just below his ear and Adam's petting both their hair, shushing them as they gasp and groan. Sylar rolls his hips, bearing down on Luke's prostate until Luke's fingers tangle fiercely in the sheets beside Adam's thigh, nearly overwrought with pleasure.

Then, Adam's pushing firmly at Sylar's head and, with one biting kiss to Luke's shoulder, Sylar takes the hint. He sits back on his knees, pulling out nearly all the way before pressing himself fully back inside. He fucks Luke, slow and _deep_, every thrust a little harder, a little quicker. As Luke takes Adam's spit-slick cock in hand, jacks it tight and sucks the head, Sylar angles his hips so that with every thrust his tip drags over Luke's prostate.

Luke's close, so close, but without a free hand to touch it's all he can do to stay steady on his hands and knees as Adam starts to lift his hips from the bed, to fuck his mouth while Sylar fucks his ass. He scrabbles at Adam's thighs for balance and sucks as best as he can. Then, Adam's pulling out and tugging Luke's head back by his hair. He rubs himself against Luke's cheek, jerks himself in long, fast strokes, coming over Luke's lips. Luke closes his eyes and eagerly laps at the semen that dribbles down the cleft of his chin.

Adam gathers Luke's shoulders in his arms, bending over him and cuddling him tight as Luke lies gasping with his head on Adam's inner thigh. He loops his arms around Adam's hips and holds him tight as the slap of skin on skin echoes through the room. Then, Sylar's pulling out too, shouting out as he comes, hot, thick ribbons of spunk splattering over Luke's ass and back. And through it all, Luke wants to shout "Ta da!" at the top of his lungs because he's the reason that they're shuddering, groaning and boneless, weak in the aftermath of their orgasms.

Sylar yanks him roughly back by the shoulders, panting as he wraps one arm tight around Luke's chest. He twists his head back to lick through the sticky mess on his lips and smother him with a hard, possessive kiss. He takes Luke's cock in his hand, and barely jerks him off at all before Luke's screaming into Sylar's mouth, coming harder than he ever has before. Adam slides to the floor in front of him and kisses him on his forehead, pressing his nose to his temple and breathing deeply.

"Perfect, pet," he murmurs.

Between them, they hold Luke tight and safe as he quivers, close to passing out from sheer exhilaration. And now they're starting to stick together from the mess of drying come; Sylar strokes his hair and whispers in his ear, "Good boy."

Sighing at the effort, Sylar stands, drags him up, too, and offers Adam a hand. They pile into one narrow bed, with Luke mostly lying over Sylar so that all three can fit.

Luke peppers lazy kisses over Sylar's still flushed skin, lapping at the sweat that's drying on his clavicles, tongue rasping up under his chin, dragging over his stubble. He feels Adam ruffle his hair. "He can be an affectionate little thing, can't he?"

Luke lifts his head and grins as Sylar kisses the tip of his nose. "When he wants to be," Sylar teases.

Luke leans over to kiss Adam too, nuzzling in the crook of his neck, but Adam gently pushes him away.

"As much as I'd love to stay and languish in the aftermath of our sins, I need to meet a speedster about some stolen blueprints. She's just a blonde chit of a girl but she has the stickiest fingers you'll ever find."

With an elaborate yawn, Sylar stretches out. "Send the kid."

"Really?" Luke sits up straight in excitement; his fingers twitch and he's totally gonna nuke the both of them if they're only teasing.

Adam gives him a hard look and then shrugs, tweaking Luke's nipple as he says, "As long as you promise to follow orders."


End file.
